Skip to main content

My survival travel pack

I'm still making up for not having many posts about my Trinidad trip, but this time I thought I'd talk about the flight down...alone..with Liam...on my lap.

Austin check-in was slow since the person behind the desk didn't quite know how to handle the passenger-with-lap-child situation. By the time we got our boarding passes, Liam had had enough. He turned to me, scrunched up his little face and said, "Home". It was heart-breaking since we hadn't even gotten through security yet!

Liam was very subdued on the flights and didn't run about on the plane, but each time we got up from the chairs to board another flight, he told me, "Home".
"We're almost there, baby, we're going to Grandpa's home."
I kept him entertained with my 'travel packet'. Shown below, everything fit in a ziploc bag (not shown - my toy of last resort, lent to a friend). The stickers were a life-saver! He kept sticking and taking them off the board I'd made. Here he is in action. He might have played with the Thomas colorforms pack more, but his fingers were not able to manipulate them very well.



Apparently children don't like being changed in strange places - he refused to lie down on the changing tables. Needless to say cleaning up poop from a standing position was a challenge.

When we reached Trinidad though, I wanted to change him into his pjamas before we drove home. That was the last straw for him, but I had my secret weapon. It was a very small media player (Nextar T30), loaded with Wiggles, Hi-5, etc. It got me through that last change, baggage, customs and immigration in Trinidad.

That night he slept pretty well considering the events of the day. The next morning he woke up and took to his Uncle Teddy like he's known him his whole life. My sister-in-law? Not so much. He showed a distinct preference for the males in the family.

The trip back is another story.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Talking with Lucas on climate change

This is my post for Blog Action Day . This is an annual event where bloggers everywhere in the world post about the same issue on the same day to spark discussion around an issue of global importance. This is part of a conversation I had with my 8-year old. Mama : Do you know what climate change means? Lucas : I think it means when it is like 90F and it is hot.   And the change? It's when in the daytime it might be 90F and sunny and hot, and then you go inside for dinner and then right after dinner and it might have dropped to 70F Well, yes it is that in a way.  That describes what is happening in your area, but when people use the term "climate change" they really mean something more global, like affecting climate around the world Have you heard of the team "global warming"? What global warming is that it is made up of CO2 (carbon dioxide) and when they burn stuff the smoke releases CO2 and it's like a blanket covering the earth and if it k...

Week 20, Cycles 11,12 of 12: Not Happening

This week the oncologist felt that I had done enough chemo- I was not going to get Cycle 11 and Cycle 12.  I've talked before about the effects of the chemo on my fingers, but you know it is a sad situation when you knot your pyjama bottoms and then can't untie it to go to the bathroom. No more chemotherapy for me. Yay?  Yes, a bit of an anti-climax, but I still get to ring the "end-of-chemo" bell and get confetti thrown on me by my chemo nurses. My doctor also had in her hand the results of my post-chemotherapy MRI and it showed that there was a reduction in the tumour, it looked less dense than before and above all it looks like the volume of the tumour decreased by about 75%. Yay to that for sure! Considering I didn't feel that anything was changing I was very happy about the result. Next on my list: surgery. She said that although my blood counts are low in some areas, she felt that if I wanted to have surgery that day, I was well enough to do it. Me? We...

You'd think...

You'd think that the smoke coming from my ears and nose would be a sure hint to my children NOT to aggravate me.  And if not, then for sure the wide, crazed eyes and the clenched teeth should tell them something.  Maybe I need to write an instruction manual: "How to read your Mama". You'd think after being hurt by or punished for something two times already, there wouldn't be a third.  What can I say? It appears that some children need more experiences than others to cement learning. You'd think that if I'm taking them to do something they enjoy, I wouldn't have to say scream four times: "Change and get in the car!"  Obviously what they are doing at the present time is more "funner" than any planned activity. You'd think that as an adult, I'd be better able to let go of the trials my children put me through and not let things fester.  I guess despite my advanced age, I still have some maturing to do. ...